Purple Goo
by Sophia Angelia
Summary: It's time for dinner! What has the Doctor cooked up in the kitchen? Note: Uses OC, One-shot.


**A/N: Thanks for checking out my story! This one has no particular plot line or conflict. It's just something that randomly came to me. It also features my personal OC, Sophia. And before you ask, no that's not my real name. Just assume she's been the Doctor's companion for some time now. If you must know, this takes place between the Waters of Mars and the End of Time, as do all my other Tenth Doctor stories. Enjoy!**

* * *

"Right, then, what sort of Gallifreyan cuisine did you make toady, Doctor?" Sophia asked in a singsong voice, tucking herself into the table in the TARDIS's dining room.

"I've prepared something special," the Doctor announced, dancing around the table and placing what appeared to be a solid, brass dome in front of her. The dome had a second, protruding bubble on top that shifted from one light color to white to the next color, going in a rainbow order, but with different hues. "It's sort of like a mixture of soup, potatoes, steak, and toothpaste."

"Toothpaste?" Sophia scoffed, staring at the Doctor in a mix of disbelief and amusement, and then looking down at the dome with the same expression. "So, what, I'm supposed to eat metal toothpaste?"

"No, that's just the dish. It opens."

"How? There's no latch or lid or anything." Sophia examined the dish, looking for how it might open. "And another thing: why doesn't this have a smell? I though all foods smelled like something…"

The Doctor opened his mouth to say something, but reconsidered his words, running his tongue over his teeth without bothering to seal his lips. He leaned against the table with one hand, placing the other on his hip and kicking the opposite foot up in a casual way while he considered how to phrase his answer.

"When you live in a city covered by a," the Doctor made a rounding gesture with his free hand, "glass dome, it tends to be a generally bad idea to create a lot of steam, for biological and environmental reasons," he made rolling gestures while trying to think of where to take this conversation. "This dish is designed to change the temperature of the air around and inside it and create less steam. But to do so, it had to be airtight." The Doctor tapped the top of the dish and continued. "Because dinner is typically identified by smell, the brilliant minds who came up with the dishes decided that, as a dinner bell, they'd install a psychic transmitter that would let everyone in the house know it was time for dinner. It does this by transmitting the smell over psychic waves that even the youngest of Time Lords can pick up and understand."

"So, it's like smelling, but with your mind?" Sophia interrupted, just trying to simplify.

"Yea, basically," the Doctor nodded, standing up a little straighter. "Unfortunately, human minds aren't quite adapted to picking up psychic waves, even ones as basic as these."

"But you said even the youngest of Time Lords could pick it up," Sophia countered.

"Yeah, but you're not a Time Lord. You said you couldn't smell anything, whereas I could tell you exactly what went into that… soup… just by 'scent' alone," the Doctor looked pointedly at Sophia, making quotation marks in the air when he said 'scent'. Sophia just huffed and looked dejectedly at the bronze dome. A moment of awkward silence passed between the two of them for a moment. "Go on, then. Take a sniff," the Doctor flicked his wrist in a shooing manner, barely containing a smile.

"Are you mocking me?" Sophia said in a dejected tone, slowly losing her appetite.

"No, I'm serious. You humans may not be adapted to psychic communication, but even the simplest form of life is capable of it, just some are on different levels than others. I'm sure that it you press your forehead to that…" the Doctor pointed to the colored bubble on top of the dome, "color-y, glow-y orb… you'll be able to 'smell' the meal," the Doctor once again made quotation marks in the air when he said the word 'smell'.

Sighing, Sophia did as she was told, standing up slightly and closing her eyes to concentrate on the 'smell'. After a few seconds, she opened her eyes and sat back down in her chair, a rather confused look on her face as she tried to place a name for what she had just smelled.

"And…? What did it smell like?" the Doctor asked, unable to control the giddiness from having his cooking about to be sampled.

Sophia scrunched up her eyes and nose, still trying to place a name. "I don't know…" she shook her head. "Scorched flesh?" Sophia looked up at the Doctor with concern. "Is it _supposed_ to smell like that?"

The Doctor frowned, furrowing his eyebrows. He looked from Sophia, to the bubble, then back again. "No, I don't think so." He took out his sonic screwdriver and fiddled around with the bubble, before putting it away again. "Try it again, I think I fixed it."

Sophia stood up again, and only had to tap her forehead to the bubble for a fraction of a second to recognize that aroma. "Beef stew!" she exclaimed, and just like that, the dish opened.

Like a flower blooming on time lapse like they show on those nature documentaries, the dish revealed equally spaced lines all the way around and unfolded, tucking the 'petals' under a weird, slightly curved plate containing a sort of food that looked like beef stew, albeit colored an irrational purple. Not even bothering to sit down, Sophia picked up a nearby spoon and plunged the utensil into her meal. The soup turned out to be more like putty in texture, but still maintained a sort of chunky underscore nonetheless.

Transferring the contents of the spoon into her mouth, Sophia considered the taste and texture of the alien food as she swished it back and forth. The Doctor looked on expectantly: Sophia had managed a blank expression thus far, leaving the cook very tense. "Potatoes… Steak…" Sophia's eyes brightened as she listed off the things the 'soup' tasted like around the mouthful already there. Swallowing, she turned and grinned at the Time Lord. "And toothpaste! That's so weird!" Sophia chuckled a bit, before spooning some more purple putty into her mouth. "Why is this so good?" she laughed between mouthfuls.

"Because it's my specialty," the Doctor announced, disappearing into the kitchen to return momentarily with his own bowl of outer space soup.

Sophia just looked at him weirdly as they both took their seats across from each other. "I thought you said this was fine cuisine!"

"Who's to say I wasn't the best chef of Gallifrey?" the Doctor smiled jokingly.

Sophia just blinked at him before returning to her meal. No more words were shared between the two; as they were too busy enjoying their meal made by a high-class Gallifreyan chef.


End file.
